They were all present, not preserved or maintained, but simply abandoned, like objects intended to endure through time.
The silence enveloping the scene was almost tangible, as if time itself had chosen to halt in respect. Dust motes floated gracefully in the beams of light, illuminating the beauty of decay and the untold stories that lingered, waiting to be discovered.
The material was the island's dark volcanic rock, which was shaped into articulated plates that covered the hand and forearm in a way that was both useful and clearly the work of the same careful mind that had designed everything else in this space.
The best lines of Elder Script continued along the top of each gauntlet in the same hand as the writing on the outside of the chest. The intricate designs told stories of ancient battles and the island's rich history, each symbol meticulously carved to convey meaning.
